


Voce in Tenebrae

by Malkuthe



Series: Dwindling Glory [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Parents, Bigotry & Prejudice, F/F, Incest, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Non-Consensual, Radio, Religion, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:00:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malkuthe/pseuds/Malkuthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When darkness comes, most if not all light is snuffed out, never to be seen again until that one spark, if it exists, reignites the flames and burns away the shadow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short series, only two and a quarter chapters long, that tells a story that happens before the events of [Never Regret.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1168168/chapters/2376231)
> 
> It touches on what happened in Jason's past, and part of how he got where he is now. This is unedited, and raw, and was written in a burst of creative inspiration. I will be revisiting it in time, but that won't be today. 
> 
> I'm also taking this time to say that there will be another work in the Dwindling Glory series that is due soon. It is pretty much 'As Much Porn with as Much Plot as Possible.' There are thousands upon thousands of words of kinky smut in this one, but it is entirely canon. Enjoy, and I hope you take a lesson from this story too.

When darkness comes, most if not all light is snuffed out, never to be seen again until that one spark, if it exists, reignites the flames and burns away the shadow.  
  
My name is Arthur Williams, and this is my story. I write this for fear that it be forgotten, never to be seen or heard about in the annals of history, like the countless unsung heroes of humanity's wars, the countless forgotten names that allowed us to prosper. Perhaps it is the mere act of forgetting these noble souls, these creatures whose final acts were not that of the epic heroes of Greece or the martyrs of the Catholic Church but that of kindness worthy of admiration, that we are where we are in this day, in 2027.  
  
I live in Kansas. I have for my entire life. Born in this red state. Probably going to die in this red state. There really wasn't much choice for me. My family had come upon hard times, barely skirting the poverty line. Not to mention, even if I left Kansas, being from around here is a death sentence to your job prospects. We've since been branded the bastion of the Westboro Baptist Church. Even in these highly religious times, they're still pariahs in more sensible society.  
  
Unfortunately, my parents are members of the church, and I can't tell you how many "God Hates Fags" signs I've had to hold up, how many funeral's I've had to picket. I don't agree with it, any of it, but I have to pretend, because bad things happen to those who are different.  
  
I'm blond, decently well-built from playing football, decent at 'academics' and good-looking enough to snag myself a girl. My parents were dying to meet her, but neither her nor I want to meet each others' parents. Truth be told, we were both acting as beards for each other. Our 'best friends' were doing the same thing, and us four were pretty much inseparable.  
  
We led halfway-decent lives, and my 'best friend's' house was our sanctuary. He had sane parents, compared to most other families in the area. They knew about myself and him, and they knew what the girls meant to each other. We had no need to hide in their home. We were free to be who we were, as long as no one saw us.  
  
At school, well, we all tried to keep a low profile, but since my boyfriend and I were both on the team, that was easier said than done. None of us really wanted to call any attention on us, not like that Chad kid that had gotten beaten up the other day at school, and then rumour has it, he got beaten up when he got home too. I felt really bad for him, but couldn't do a thing. After all, I didn't want to be branded "fag-lover."  
  
All that being said, this story isn't really about me, or my boyfriend, or the two girls who made our relationship possible. No. It's not about any of us. It's about that one voice that dared to speak in the darkness.  
  
The only voice brave enough to do so.  
  
\---  
  
My dad is an alcoholic, and an abusive one at that, oftentimes spouting Bible verse with every hit he landed on my mother and myself. I was sick of it, and sick of the look he would often fix me with. I knew that look. It was one of want, as my boyfriend would sometimes give me. Coming from my own father, self-proclaimed bane of fairies and executor of faggots, it was absolutely disgusting.  
  
My mother is a cold heartless bitch, but I think that's only because my dad seems to do all he can to make her miserable. I can't really blame her when she takes out her misery on me. I still resent it, though. Even more when  _she_  gets to quoting the most recent WBC propaganda.  
  
I'm a traitor to my own kind, I get it, but I don't want to ruin my life as well as my boyfriend's, or the girls.' Our situation is precarious enough as it is. I don't have any choice but to join my parents in picketing funerals. No choice whatsoever. Not if I wanted to live.  
  
This story begins on an otherwise normal Saturday. Everyone was going about their business as usual, dad was drinking, mom was cleaning and re-cleaning the house, and people were out tending to their lawns and mundane chores. I was a bit worried, since my boyfriend had not replied to any of my texts since the previous night, but sometimes he had to stop texting for fear that someone might be monitoring him.  
  
As much as the LGBT community was able to do back in the golden days of the human rights equality movement, they lost the moment religion was officially allowed into government. They lost the moment the separation of church and state was written out of the constitution in a move that shocked and apalled the nation. Anyone with good sense had moved to Canada then, but in pockets of fundamentalism, families remained because of children too young, or lacking resources.  
  
Ian, my boyfriend, belonged to one such family. They were almost as poor as us, but they at least still managed to get food on the table every night. Mom tried, but one woman can't do much, not when her husband takes most of the money to spend on his drink.  
  
Anyway, I was surprised when my phone, an old, battered thing on the edge of dying, vibrated loudly on my nightstand. It was Ian. He wanted to meet up with me. ASAP. There was dread coiled in my heart, Ian was rarely ever brief with his words. He was an aspiring writer, flowery even in his speech. To see such a brief, curt message, had utterly terrified me.  
  
I ran down the stairs, and told my parents I was off to Ian's, but my father stopped me before I could leave. "You better not be running off to see a secret faggot lover, Arthur" he told me with a drunken slur. I pulled my hand from his grasp, red welts where he'd squeezed me too hard. I wasn't, I assured him. I was only going to meet up with friends.  
  
I got to Ian's house, Ian's empty, boarded-up house, I should say, and I was just as confused as the girls whom it seemed had also been given summons. I walked in through the front door, which was slightly ajar. There was dust in the air, and bare walls and floors, as though there had never been a family living there.  
  
"Ian?" I called out weakly, fearing the worst, that my boyfriend was not only dead, but that I had walked right into a trap. The girls were clinging to each other, evidently afraid of the now seemingly derelict house. It had been bustling and cozy and comfortable only the previous day. What had happened? There was no way that the amount of dust in there was natural.  
  
A square of hardwood flooring lifted up in front of us to reveal a hidden passageway and out peeked Ian's head. "Come on" he beckoned to us, before vanishing back down into the dark unknown. I looked to the girls then, and shrugged, trusting my boyfriend of three years to not do anything that would harm me.  
  
The sight that greeted me was the strangest one I'd ever seen. It won't leave me until my final days, of that I'm pretty damn sure. Ian's parents were sitting on a couch, their overly-large husky in between the, that was precariously balanced on two mattresses, three bed-frames, and a deflated air mattress. "Arthur..." began Ian, walking up to me and hugging me with tears in his eyes.  
  
"Arthur, we're leaving" he whispered into my ear. I shivered, hoping against all hope that he was lying, that this was all just a dream. I pinched myself and hissed at the pain. This was real. This was real.  
  
"What the fuck? Why? Please, Ian... don't leave me..." I had begged him. My father always told me that real men don't cry, that only faggots do, but I  _was_  and  _am_  a member of that people. I wept, openly, and so too did Ian. Who wouldn't? This was the guy I'd loved for the last three years, who'd loved me back the way I knew no one else in our town ever would...   
  
"Come with us, Arthur. No one will know, they won't notice, it would be as though you were never here. Please, babe, come with us. We're going somewhere better. Somewhere we won't get killed for being ourselves..." I don't know what possessed me that moment, but I declined. I fucking declined. I wonder where my life would be right now if I hadn't so foolishly turned down my then-boyfriend's offer...  
  
I honestly don't know what's happened to him now. I've not heard from him, have received no letters, not even the slightest peep. I don't know if he's still alive, if he ever even got to where he said they were going... I miss him. I really do.  
  
Him and I, we spent our last hours together, just talking. The girls were part of it, but generally just kept respectful distance, wanting to give Ian and I some space. We parted ways that day, just before sundown, with tearful goodbyes. I just know that the moment I left that cramped underground room, I never heard from Ian again...  
  
So my day was going pretty shitty already, and I did not look forward to getting home. Thankfully, my parents were pre-occupied with their rapidly-escalating fight to bother giving a fuck about me. Unfortunately, that meant there was no dinner on the table. I just grabbed myself a piece of white loaf bread and went up to my room. I tried calling Ian but the line was dead.  
  
I just lay in bed, thinking of what to do with my life then. I didn't know what to do, nothing else really seemed to matter anymore, now that the most important person in my life was gone. I found myself turning to my little battery-operated radio... it was the consolation gift my mother had given me when it turned out my computer needed to be sold to keep us with a house.  
  
I surfed the channels for a short while, getting tired of hearing the same shit again and again, government-approved songs, church sermons, government-approved news, hymns of praise, and the occasional propaganda bullshit. It was all the same, sickening.  
  
As I was fiddling with the knob that turned the channels, I came across  _him_. Or at least I think it was a him. He had a male voice, to be fair.  
  
 _*cracklefizzpop* Hello? Hi. This is AM097 again... is there anyone out there that's listening? I really need someone to talk... anyone. Even if it's just softly. Please. Anyone? Well... if there is anyone out there even remotely listening, I'm on voxpopuli.blogme.com... Please, make yourself known. I need to know if I'm getting to anyone out there..._  
  
I listened to the voice on my radio, just barely, because I found it interesting, but between my broken heart and my empty stomach, I spared the station no second thought and switched the channel before finally shutting the damnable thing off. I lay there, staring at my ceiling, wishing that the next day would bring Ian back. I had no idea just how wrong I was to wish that.  
  
\---  
  
"I'm heading to Ian's for a while..." I told my parents after a meagre breakfast of cereal... dry cereal. It was their look of confusion that first concerned me, it was what they said next that struck fear into me.  
  
"Whose?"  
  
\---  
  
Over the next week I passed by Ian's every day after school, only to find it boarded up and seemingly getting older by the hour. No one seemed to know who my boyfriend was, no one seemed to realize that the old run-down house had only recently been filled with the most decent human beings in the entire town... Hell, even the girls didn't remember Ian...  
  
It was as though he was never there. For a moment, I thought that maybe I was going insane, but a quick look in my phone told me otherwise. My photos with Ian were still intact, but none of my friends seemed to agree with me that Ian was in any of my pictures. I was scared, confused, hurting, and angry all at the same time.  
  
I texted Ian again and again but received no reply. It was all an exercise in futility. All my calls were to a dead line. My boyfriend was completely erased from my life overnight, and it tore me apart. I was completely distraught. So much so that I spent all of the next Saturday in my room, pretending to be sick.  
  
Neither of my parents bothered me. That night, I just so happened to be searching for something new on the radio again, when I hit upon the same, strange station as I had the previous week.   
  
 _*cracklefizzpop* Hello? Hi. This is AM097 again... Is anyone out there? ... I don't know if I should keep doing this... I don't think I'm reaching anyone... Getting my message hurt... but just in case, you can find me at voxpopuli.blogme.com... please, if there's anyone out there listening, talk to me._  
  
I listened intently this time, hearing almost the exact same words from last week being repeated back to me. I didn't know why the man on the other side of the radio seemed to be so bent on getting something out there, but I found his determination to be refreshing. I took out my earphones and plugged them into the radio just in case. I didn't want my parents to hear anything. They already thought the radio might cause me to turn away from god, there was no need to provide them further ammo.  
  
 _This is getting insane. My biology teacher insists that god created man in his own image and likeness... I know that's not the case, not from the books._  
  
I gasped, then, knowing that such knowledge was forbidden. Such words were blasphemy, sacrilege, but enticing all the same. I never bought the theory taught in biology, that all creatures were created in seven days by god and that man was made from clay... I didn't believe it. I didn't think it was true, but I didn't have access to text that said otherwise.  
  
I looked at my book shelf. It had once been filled with sci-fi novels, and fantasy books, but the WBC had said those were the work of the devil, and my parents had quickly taken all of my books and burned them. All that remained there was a Bible, and I'd read it enough to know that there were so many contradictions in it...  
  
Part of the "Sunday Studies" we conducted at Ian's house was to write down the individual contradictions in the text of the Bible. We knew it was a fruitless endeavour, but we did it all the same, if only to settle our hearts that it couldn't all possibly be true as the pastors would have us believe...  
  
 _Evolution is true. I know it. I've read the books. I've seen the evidence. There's no better explanation! Why don't they understand that. Why can't they accept it? Why can't they just say that they're wrong? I don't know. I don't even know why I bother..._  
  
Evolution. That word. That blasphemous word decried by any and all 'true Christians' because it went against the word of the Bible. Now, the radio had his rapt attention.  
  
 _That dumb bitch Cory was trying to get into my pants again today..._  
  
Cory? That name sounded familiar.  
  
 _I swear, she's slept around with everyone in the school except maybe the women... Anyway, she happily corrected Mrs. Bobychuk, and said that it was after the likeness of god AND his angels. Turns out she was right and was given an exception for the next bullshit test!_  
  
That name was familiar! This guy, on the radio, went to my school! I was shocked, and awed at the same time! I wanted to know who he was, I wanted to know what sorcery he was using to be able to do what he was doing!  
  
 _...I kind of had to give Cory an ambiguous answer... She was beginning to insinuate that I was a fag... I mean, I am, but... no one else can find out._  
  
My heart stopped in my chest. There were others like me in the school. Now, more than ever, I needed to find out who was the voice in the radio.


	2. Chapter 2

I wanted to visit his website, I really did, but I knew that I would be giving him away if I visited it at school, and I had no other way of accessing it from home. So I did what I thought was the most logical, and safest way to get it out there that I knew about him, the voice on the radio. I made a big poster with just the string he used to identify himself AM097, and a huge smiley-face. I got strange looks, sure, but I had made sure to find the girls earlier to tell them about our new 'inside joke' and no one thought any more to question it.  
  
The week went by really slowly. I tuned in to my radio every night just in case, but he was never there. I was distraught over Ian's sudden disappearance from my life, but this newly-developed obsession over this mysterious broadcaster, helped me cope. Apart from that, I also penned letters for Ian, telling him how much I loved him, and how much I missed him... I would always be so happy after finishing a letter, confident that it would finally get him to come back to me, but then I would realize that I didn't have an address to send it to.  
  
That realization almost always destroyed me. I ripped so many letters up and flushed them down the drain that week. I couldn't risk my parents finding out about them. Math, English, Science were all pretty much a homogenous, repetitive lesson of "God said this, so this is true." It didn't even matter that the subject matter had nothing to say about religion, the teachers made it so.   
  
Again and again, we were told that if someone found out that the bible said two plus two is five, then that would be the new curriculum, despite centuries of scientific and mathematical knowledge that proves otherwise. The only reason I knew this was because there were still textbooks in the library, and I would sneak in after football practice to read. The rest of my peers didn't have the such fortune on their side.  
  
Saturday could not have come sooner than it did. I was practically restless the entire day. My mom, showing for once a shred of her deeply buried motherly instincts, asked me if I was alright. Teenager that I was, teenager that I am, just scowled at her. She shrugged and went back to cleaning some part of the house that didn't really need it.   
  
After dinner and doing the dishes, I practically ran up the stairs to my room. I closed my door and put on my earphones. There was no need for my parents to find out what I was listening to. I waited, and I waited, and I waited. It was almost ten, but the other person had not broadcast yet. I was about to give up, despairing, and go to sleep when I heard the now-familiar change in the static that meant he was about to talk to me. Well, not necessarily to me, but to whomever he thought he was talking to.  
  
 _Oh my god. There is someone out there, listening to me. I want to meet you. Good fucking god, I want to meet you._  
  
I froze. I didn't want to meet whomsoever was behind the transmissions. I was good just listening, being a part of the effort but not doing anything... I was too afraid of what other people might think, of what other people might do...  
  
 _How does the little cafeteria on the south side of town tomorrow at six sound? Please. I want to meet you. I want to know that someone else out there thinks the same that I do. Please. Show up._  
  
I'm ashamed to admit it, but I didn't show up. I could only imagine what he did, then, when I didn't show up. Did he wait? Or did he leave after fifteen minutes? I would never find out. But I continued listening to him, week after week.  
  
It was October of 2025 that things started to escalate. Until today, he'd only been talking about the wrongs of our education system, and the wrongs of denying rights to people like us. Over the weeks I'd become more and more dependent on his weekly broadcasts. My life was taking a turn for the worst.  
  
Mom left. I was left alone with dad a lot, and I could tell that his self-control was slipping. I didn't want to have anything to do with his deranged fantasies about me, because I knew they existed, I just did. I still had no news from Ian, not he slightest indication that he was still alive. The only thing keeping me sane was him talking over the radio.  
  
I never met with him. I never spoke with him, other than when I whispered in the darkness to answer the seemingly endless questions he had with questions of my own. In some fucked up way, I thought we had a thing going on, even if it was all pretty much one-sided. Even if I never made any indication that I knew him, every week I did my best to show him that I was still listening.  
  
Although, at some point, I had to think of more creative things to do, since the AM097 joke seemed to have caught on in the school. Everyone was using it, posting notes wherever they could, everyone wanting to one-up the next. I guess some part of me was happy that this happened, because at least it meant some people were listening, even if they did not have radios, or even if they did not understand what that string of letters and numbers really meant.  
  
It made me happy that for some time, at least, the voice on the other side of the radio began to gain more hope, become lighter, more combative. He talked about wanting to gather people to protest the injustices done in Mississippi to gay men and women, who were being raped to "correct" them. He talked about wanting to gather people to throw religion right back out of politics.  
  
I remember, in my mind, I shared the same vision. I wanted the world to be back the way it was when my mom and dad were young, and social justice triumphed over repugnant religious ideals. But then, things changed. It was in October of 2026 when he began broadcasting much later than usual... He claimed he'd just been raped, forced to have unprotected sex with Cory...  
  
I wanted to reach out for once, to make a move and let myself be known, but my fear stayed my hand. I didn't want to risk it. Maybe that's why I didn't want to go with Ian. I didn't know where they were going, or what sort of life awaited his family, or whether I would even be safe there... I stayed behind, refusing Ian, and then I stayed silent, not helping the voice in the darkness, and I am a fool for it.  
  
The next week I heard rumours flying around that Cory had finally done her big thing, sleeping with every guy in the school. I tried to keep a low profile. She hadn't dared touch me just yet, but no one had to know. It wasn't until Wednesday that week that she approached me after football practice and managed to pry my pants off of me. I was so revolted I couldn't get hard, and she laughed at me.  
  
I called my 'girlfriend' then and there, crying, and asked her to meet me. I didn't know what to do, I was sure that they were going to start calling me a fag because I couldn't get it up, but she knew what to do, and she defended me, making me seem like the epitome of faithfulness to my girl. Even the teachers began to use me as an example, once the news got around.  
  
That Saturday was the first time I heard my name in the broadcast, and my heart nearly stopped when I did. It wasn't said in the loving praise that I had expected. I was a fool to expect that, I know, but I did all the same. He said my name with such resentment that I could not bear to listen after he spoke his mind.  
  
 _That Arthur kid... She tried to rape him too, but he couldn't get it up. Pfft. As if he's this chaste, faithful guy. He's a fucking footballer. I think he's just a fag like me, only he has someone putting out for him so he doesn't get hard by anyone touching his dick._  
  
I didn't listen the week after that, but I could not resist for very long. Two weeks after, I was tuning in, and the message on the radio was harrowing.  
  
 _Jason Collins, the cute guy in my biology class, he said he had a crush on me... I don't know what to do. I mean, I kind of like him, too, but I don't want the rest of the school to know. People are starting to look strangely at me now, too, because I talked to him... I just want to kill myself, get this all over with, but now I know that there are people out there listening, I can't give up. These people need my voice and I need to get them together to do something about this world we live in..._  
  
I learned that Tuesday that the voice on the other side of the radio was ready to do anything to defend his integrity. He had outed Jason Collins. As much as I had asked around in as safe a manner as possible, I could not find the source of the rumour, and therefore the owner of the voice on the radio, but the damage was done.  
  
Jason Collins was now pariah in the school. If not for Ms. Owler, the really strict math teacher, he would probably have faced the same fate as Chad. I didn't want to meet that same fate. Out of fear, I made myself promise that I would stop seeking out the voice on the radio, and instead keep doing what I was just doing.  
  
That Saturday was nearly as harrowing as the previous one. The other boy was clearly crying, and torn apart by what he'd done. News had it that Jason had been disowned, and indefinitely suspended from the school. The voice, Vid for Voice in the Darkness, as I had begun to call him, was absolutely distraught over what he'd done.  
  
It was fully understandable, and that entire night was Vid justifying to himself that what he had done was for the benefit of all of us who lived in the shadow of a theocracy.   
  
The following week was heartbreaking. Vid had found out that people thought AM097 was just an inside joke. His voice sounded broken and afraid, lacking of its usual aplomb and determination. I couldn't help but feel bad, giving him false hope. He asked that if anyone was actually listening, that they stick a blue cross to the door of the men's bathroom in the first floor. He would count and he would know how many people were actually listening.  
  
I did so. Took one blue cross and entered the bathroom with it. I stuck the cross to the inside of the door, not wanting anyone to see me. The next Saturday, the sadness in his voice was palpable.  
  
 _One. One blue cross. And all this time I thought there were at least thirty of you... Just one person, and that person hasn't even spoke up yet. Hasn't come to any of the meetings I proposed. Has it only been you this whole time? I just want someone to speak out with me... Would it kill you to at least let me know your face? I waited by the cafeteria for two hours that first time, because I was hoping against hope that you would show yourself. I was sorely disappointed. Please. Tomorrow. Same time, same place. Please._  
  
I wanted to, I really did, but I couldn't. It was too much of a risk, and I was already in deep enough trouble as it was. My dad had become increasingly aggressive, and my mom had stopped calling at all. I had to borrow money from neighbours just to get some food in my stomach...  
  
I had no idea that what would happen the next day would make me wish I had just risked meeting Vid. It was ten, and it was dark when my dad barged into my room and called me his little faggot cocksucker. How he knew, or even if he actually knew, I didn't know. All I know is that I howled in pain that night... I didn't think a dad could do that to his own son.  
  
I spent the next week in bed, too afraid to see the world with my bite-marks, and the bruises where he'd roughly handled me and kissed me. So much for being a good football player, eh? I had no power to throw him off me. He was my dad. I didn't want to hurt him... but I think what was really fucked up was that at some point I began to enjoy it.  
  
I waited for Saturday and the broadcast, but it never came. It had happened before, and usually Vid would be back with an explanation the next day. No such explanation came. I was beginning to panic a little. The one thing keeping me sane was gone... My boyfriend had left me, my mother had left me, I was hungry, and my father had raped me. My life was falling apart.  
  
I waited for him the next week. Nothing. And the next. Nothing. I was beginning to understand the pain he must've felt when I didn't come that day to meet him, and I regretted it even more. The weeks passed, and nothing came. I stopped going to school. My dad didn't give a fuck. Every night was the same with him anyway, either drinking until he passed out, or having his way with his son.  
  
It's 2027, and all of this is still happening. I found work at the cafeteria and tried to ask around about the weird guy that would hang out there on Sundays. I always got the same answer, "He doesn't anymore."  
  
Professor, I know you don't know me, but I managed to get your mailing address off of your website. I think you're one of the few people that can help. How I accessed your website, well, I found it yesterday, when I was brave enough to use the computers at the library. I know you fight for people like me, my boyfriend, the girls, and Vid... I'm hoping you can let our story be known...  
  
Don't let us be forgotten. Please. We're voices in the shadows, and this is our story. I'm ashamed I never spoke up with that one voice I heard on the radio. I'm ashamed I never gave it any support other than that which I kept to myself...  
  
Professor, I've learned an important thing that I will carry with me until the day I die. This is what he always said at the end of his broadcasts, and to this day, it haunts me every Saturday evening...  
  
 _All it takes for that one voice against the darkness to stop speaking is for no other voices to join it._  
  
How do I know I carry this until the day I die? Well, that day is today. I've lost my boyfriend. I've lost my dignity. My virginity. My hope. The friendship of the girls. My mother. My home. I've lost Vid, and that was entirely my fault.  
  
I think it's time I say goodbye to this world. I know I'm going to hell, but at least I know that down there, I'll be with people like me, who think like me, and believe the things that I do.  
  
~Arthur Williams


	3. Chapter 3

Vancouver Sun  
October 23, 2027  
  
Teenager Hangs Himself, Father Violates Corpse Before Alcohol-Induced Coma

* * *

  
  
VANCOUVER, SATURDAY - Kansas teenager Arthur Williams was found dead this morning in what authorities have determined is a suicide. His father was found with him, unresponsive and currently in emergency care.  
  
Arthur Williams, 19, was a budding football star in his hometown, but for unclear reasons decided to drop school and work part-time at a local cafeteria. The young man had few friends outside of the football team and none of them, when contacted by authorities, seemed to have been in contact with Arthur prior to his suicide.  
  
Forensic examination has led coroners to believe that the boy was raped by his father after his death, as evidenced by the traces of semen in the boys rectum. If and when the boy's father recovers, he will be in official custody and will be brought in for questioning.  
  
As for the boy, his few friends are grieving for him, and without a suicide note, authorities continue to attempt to piece together the motivation for this tragic event.  _-snip-_


End file.
